Brighton
by Miss Pennyfeather
Summary: Mr. Bennet does not send Lydia alone to Brighton, worried that Elizabeth's warnings might come true. Who goes with her then? Read and find out.
1. Chapter 1

1: Prologue

Elizabeth Bennet crossed her arms in despair as she measured her father sitting across from her on his ottoman. He looked completely detached. In fact, he was reading. He was not listening to her, not entirely.

He seemed as though he was paying attention, but in reality, he couldn't wait to be alone in his study again. This entire affair with Lydia was giving him a colossal headache.

And Lizzie, sweet girl as she was, was making it a lot harder for him to stick to his decision.

'Lydia will never know the extent of her insignificance unless she is put against people of real value,' he argued once again.

'You are hasty, father, in making such an affirmation, for you forget Lydia cares little for her insignificance, as long as she has colonels and young men around her.'

'Elizabeth, she has been taunting me all winter, she needs some entertainment and I'm afraid if we keep her here any longer, she will ridicule us the greater. Lydia will be in good hands. I trust Colonel Forster for being a sensible man.'

'So, your solution to her taunts is to send her away and hand her to an honourable, but complete stranger!' Elizabeth exclaimed.

Mr. Bennet groaned and set his book on his knees. He was never going to get through this argument. He knew his second eldest daughter spoke some truths, but he was also aware that Lydia was a peril to this neighbourhood and this house. The faster she was married and within her own society, the better.

It was at that moment that the third eldest sister, Mary Bennet, knocked at his door.

'Enter, enter, I'm afraid I can't stop you,' he muttered.

Mary came in holding a tray of tea things. She was maneuvering the weight with some difficulty, but she enjoyed doing little things for her father.

'Hullo, papa. Mama told me you might need something to eat and drink,' she said quietly.

'Thank you, child. That is very kind. Set it on the table over there. Is Kitty still crying her eyes out?'

'I believe so.'

'Is she still in the parlour?'

'No, she has retired to her room.'

'Ah. Well, go about comforting her,' he suggested, frowning.

Just as she was about to leave the room, Mr. Bennet seized the thought that was emmerging from his weary mind.

'Hold on, Mary. Elizabeth, I think I may have solved our dilemma.'

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in suspicion and disbelief.

'Mary, how would you like to accompany your sister to Brighton?' he asked her gleefully.

Mary's face turned as pale as a sheet. She was sure she was going to be sick. She hoped she had heard wrong, or that her father was jesting as usual.

'Well, come now, speak girl! Would you like to go to Brighton with Lydia?'

She pursed her lips and clasped her hands together at her back as she usually did when she was nervous or upset.

'Not very much, no,' she replied honestly.

But Mary's voice was usually very meek, so that her father thought she was simply being shy and hesitant. He smiled broadly and bid her come by his side.

'Oh, nonsense, I am sure you would enjoy it, at least a little. I know you are a quiet being and you like your readings but you would meet some fine, educated people there. You would have conversation. And the Forsters are not to be slighted.'

'I don't think it is a very good idea, father,' she repeated politely, clasping and unclasping the hands at her back.

'_And_ most importantly,' he added, 'you'd keep an eye on Lydia for me. You know she needs some looking after, as she is not the most obedient of children. I think I could trust you with Lydia.'

Elizabeth had witnessed this rather odd exchange between her awkward sister and her oblivious father with slight humour and pain, but now it was time for her to speak.

'Mary, you are not obliged to go if you do not wish it.'

Mary nodded her head and deigned to open the door again.

'Well, of course not,' Mr. Bennet remarked after a pause, 'but you would do me a great favour, Mary. And I'd be very grateful to you, for you'd be taking a weight off my shoulders.'

Mary's breath hitched in her throat, though she showed no external sign that she was overwhelmed. Her brows knitted in concentration. Her father was her greatest weakness. She always tried to please him and make him love her more, to the extent that now, she was starting to consider his demand.

She promised him she would think about his suggestion.

But once Mrs. Bennet took hold of this idea, she became even more adamant than Mr. Bennet and soon the whole house was raging upon it.

'What an excellent suggestion from my husband! Why, he always knows how to settle things best, although he can be quite unfair at times! He has finally noticed you spend your days here very drearily and he thought you would benefit from this excursion more than Kitty. How just of him!' Mrs. Bennet exclaimed good-humouredly.

'Are you sure Kitty cannot join Lydia? They would be very happy together and they take good care of each other, for the most part,' Mary reasoned. It was half-true. The two sisters were a good match for each other, but they were so alike they would undoubtedly get into much trouble if left completely alone.

'Nay, I should think Kitty ought to stay in because you are more deserving of entertainment, dear. She's met many officers and gentlemen already and I'm sure she'll receive an offer in no time, but you, my dear, well you have not exactly caught anyone's eye,' her mother explained in worldlier terms than she would have liked.

'I don't want to go to Brighton to be married or "catch someone's eye", as you say,' Mary argued.

'Well, you may wish one thing and get another. And let us hope that your will does not prevail this time. I would very much like to see you well off. You wouldn't want to be a burden to your parents, would you?'

'That is not being a burden.'

'Well, you are not making it any easier for your father, who cannot even die in peace when he thinks you might end up homeless and destitute.'

Mary frowned and sat back at her desk, feeling offended and very much hurt. She had heard this speech many times, recited either to her or another one of her sisters. It was a common verbal punishment in the house.

'Now, do not sulk and be grim, Mary. It shall not do. Alright! At least, think how happy you will make your father for sparing him the worries over Lydia.'

And so, it was decided after some time of silent defiance from Mary, that she was to go to Brighton with her sister, after all, to the chagrin of Kitty, who, upon hearing the news, accused them all of being unjust and cruel.

Lydia was very happy with the arrangement, because she knew her sister would have her nose stuck in books most of the time and she would not be so vigilant over her. Moreover, Mary would present no competition in the Ball room, which was not the case with Kitty, a sister almost as fair and sweet as she.

In no less than two days, the two sisters were ready for the voyage.


	2. Chapter 2

2: In Brighton

The Forsters were very simple sort of people. They were very content with every little thing they owned and they loved telling everyone how much they valued their possessions. They were also very happy with their situation and they made sure to persuade everyone that there was no better comfort in the world than either having a husband in the militia, or having a wife in the social elite of Meryton. To both these assertions others would comment that there is nothing special about a wealthy young lady or a man who makes money on the grief of war. But to these rebukes, the Forsters chose to be entirely cheerful and dismissive because they were certain men envied their domestic happiness.

They rarely found a patient audience in the houses they visited, for men did not like to be reminded of the welfare of those they consider by nature undeserving, but they had found a fresh new ear in Lydia Bennet, who liked nothing better than to hear time and time again how Mr. Forster had come to fall madly in love with his youthful wife.

'I think you would be very pleased with an officer, Lydia,' Mrs. Forster said warmly, meaning the observation to have the effect of a wise piece of advice.

Lydia nodded her head obediently.

'I would very much love that, if he were handsome and a bit in the green. Not too much though. I am not seeking any treasures, but there should be something to look forward to.'

'Of course! You should pick a handsome officer with a small, but considerable fortune that would enable him to be independent,' she agreed heatedly, casting a loving eye towards her husband who was dozing off at the other end of the carriage.

Mary, who was reading quietly in her corner, looked up when Mrs. Forster tapped her foot gently against her boot.

'Miss Mary, I know you are very clever, but I will find you an officer too, mark me, I shall. For there is no better luck in the world than marrying a red coat,' she told her, casting another glance at her husband.

'I will find you someone as intelligent as you are,' she added in a whisper, placing a palm over her right cheek.

'Oh, thank you kindly, but I decline the service,' Mary replied wanly. Her spirits were low and she had little if any desire to go anywhere or be presented to anyone. She smiled in her usual absent manner and went back to reading.

Mrs. Forster stared in her direction for a good minute or two, waiting for an apology or some form of explanation that would make up for her rude response, but she waited in vain because Mary was already engrossed in her book and Mrs. Forster dreaded to make a fool of herself so she had no courage to cough or attract her attention again. The unpleasant silence stretched longer than possible and the young Mrs. Forster finally looked away, her expression showing she was very offended.

For the rest of the journey, she silently promised herself not to introduce Mary Bennet to anyone, unless it were absolutely necessary.

* * *

Brighton, as Mary discovered very soon, was no place for rest and peace. The streets were covered in dust and the shop-keepers kept yelling at each other from one corner to another, while carriages blocked the roads and small dirty children threw mud balls in the market. There was the main street, of course, that young ladies called 'Le Boulevard', which was clean enough, with white houses on each side and tall gardens surrounding the thick walls separating each court, but there was also 'La falaise' which was a downward road, covered in rough pebbles where young couples and old ladies liked to walk, that led to the actual 'falaise', a small cliff above the sea shore.

There was a sharp taste of salt in the air coming from the sea. There was also a smell of raw fish, closer to the coast.

Mary decided she liked neither very much. When Lydia asked her to go see the docks that very afternoon, she declined.

'Don't you want to see the sea, Mary?' she had asked bewildered.

'I do, but there's no sea at the docks. There are just ships and noise,' she commented, as she unpacked her belongings in the small bedroom the Forsters had given her and her sister.

'But there are so many young people there! Don't be a simpleton, Mary. We'll go, we must.'

'I thought you wanted to meet officers,' Mary said reluctantly.

'They will all be there, some of them are going to cross the channel very soon, silly! We must wave them off with out handkerchiefs!'

'And how will that help them on their journey?' Mary asked, shaking her head. 'We'd much better pray for them.'

'We'll do that too, I promise, but can we please go to the docks?'

'There are too many people there,' Mary said more to herself, holding her arms against an imaginary gush of wind.

'That will be the best part! We will meet many people at once! Who knows who we will run into? Maybe Captain Denny or Captain Wickham, you remember them, don't you?'

'Vaguely,' Mary said, touching her forehead, which was slightly warm.

'Vaguely? Dear lord, Mr. Wickham dined with us you know! And Captain Denny, he walked us home once, don't you recall at all?'

'Now that you mention it, I remember I was reading some Ovid when Mr. Wickham called on us. I left the table early.'

Lydia stuffed her bonnet over her head and let out an impatient sound.

'It is very sad you can recall the book you read, but not the man. Do you notice _anything_ around you? I suppose not.'

'I do notice, when I have reason to look,' Mary defended herself, sitting down on her bed and taking out a leather-bound volume.

'What are you doing now? We must go out with Mrs. Forster!'

'Must we?' Mary said distractedly as she flipped through the yellow pages.

'You daft girl, didn't you hear her say we will go see the shops after dinner?'

'No, I think she only told you,' Mary said, calmly.

'No, she told the both of us. Now, be a good sister and put on a bonnet. We must leave. Luckily, I might persuade Mrs. Forster to take us to the docks.'

Mary nodded her head absently and walked to the window. She opened a pane and looked outside. From afar, she could see some maple trees. After that, there was the sea, but it was hidden by a row of low houses.

She rested her elbows on the sill and kept watching the men and women walk in and out of the buildings, carrying hampers or large satchels.

'Where do you think they go all day?' she asked.

Lydia went over to her bed and picked out a bonnet for her.

'Come on, wear this, it's the prettiest you have. You always choose such horrible colours,' Lydia said, wrinkling her nose.

Mary didn't move from the window.

'Mary!'

'What?' she asked, blinking surprised.

'Papa sent you with me to take care of me, not the other way around,' Lydia complained.

'I see you tied your bonnet by yourself.'

'That is not what I meant. I want you to listen to me and come with me wherever I go because I can't very well go alone. Please, Mary, papa said I am your charge.'

Mary grimaced and raised herself from the sill.

'Fine, fine, you go first, I will change my dress,' Mary said, patting her shoulder. 'Take your shawl with you for later.'

Lydia stretched over the bed and snatched it from her bag.

'I'll be expecting you in five minutes,' she said, rushing out the door.

After the door was shut, Mary crawled back in bed with her book and started reading.

From time to time, she would raise herself and walk to the wardrobe and take out a ribbon, place it down on her bed, then read a bit more, after which she would try and get one of her stockings out of her feet.

After a while, she heard Lydia yelling from the landing.

'Mary, I am not getting any younger you now!'

Mary quickly pulled a dress over her head and shook out her hair. She jumped towards the door with the stockings tangled around her ankles.

'Mary Bennet, Mrs. Forster is waiting!'

Mary almost fell down from the exertion of having to button up her dress and pull up her stockings.

When she finally came out of her room, she looked slightly disheveled.

'Dear Miss Bennet, did you wrestle with a lion in there?' Mrs. Forster remarked with affectation.

'A lion?' Mary asked surprised.

'My husband and I saw a very beautiful lion at the circus five months ago and my dear John even gave him some brandy. That was a shock.'

Mary shrugged her shoulders indifferently and followed the two ladies out of the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone, sorry for the late update, I've got a lot of stories to cover and little time, I suppose :) I didn't forget about Mary though, I like her too much. Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews, I was touched by all the positive feedback, thanks for the support :) I hope you'll like this chapter as well, it's a bit...well, different, but I hope in a good way.**

**So without further ado, enjoy.**

3: In trouble **  
**

The problem with Brighton was that it was overly populated, Mary Bennet soon concluded. You were bound to bump into someone every five steps, despite your best efforts. Having lived for most of her life in the country side and avoiding whenever possible any unnecessary excursion to Merryton, she had become accustomed to the peaceful isolation of her home and the sparseness of her neighbourhood.

She had even found it troublesome to call upon Mrs. Lucas every now and then or talking to the butcher's boy whenever he came to collect his debt, so one can only imagine how she felt in a sea of people she did not know.

Lydia, on the other hand, was in her element. She and Mrs. Forster were gliding through the throngs of unknown, clamourous groups of people with a most natural ease, waving and stopping for introductions whenever the acquaintance called for it.

And there were many acquaintances. Mrs. Forster knew an impressive number of gentlefolk. Lydia could have sworn she had recognized a couple of them.

'I daresay I saw that lady at the Merryton fair last year. I have a good memory for faces. She had come with her husband, I believe, or perhaps it was her brother…'

'It must have been her brother, my dear! She has been a widow for the past three years!' Mrs. Forster commented.

'Oh, dear, it would be terribly improper, wouldn't it? I mean that gentleman must have been of kin.'

'But she has no brother that I know of. Oh, goodness, what a quandary,' Mrs. Forster exclaimed slyly. 'We shall need to find someone to inform us better on the subject.'

In the meantime, Mary was glancing longingly at the carriages passing down the main road. It's not that she did not enjoy walking. It's what she liked doing best every afternoon at Longbourn, but there was no pleasure in walking through the bustle of Brighton and inhaling the salty dust which stuck to her face like glue or getting the hem of her dress hung and torn by the children running by or the men treading down on it mercilessly.

It was not helping either that one of her shoes was giving her blisters. Jane had lent her a pair of her own shoes for the occasion, mostly at the insistence of her mother, and now she was suffering the consequences of that bad decision. Jane's foot was so incredibly small and gentle that it was no match for Mary's heavy-handed larger one.

'Mary, let's stop here, we will look at some articles of clothing,' Lydia told Mary, shaking her arm gently.

The elder sister looked up at a big red sign over a tall, pear-shaped shop in front of her. The showcase was dressed in satin cushions on which sat pretty embroidered handkerchiefs and green and golden neckerchiefs, along with ribbons and brilliant straps.

_What a good waste of space_, Mary thought, staring at a particularly white ribbon which had blinded her momentarily.

Inside the shop someone had emptied ten bottles of Arabian perfumes on the walls, or at least that was Mary's impression.

She felt her stomach turning upside down. She had had very little to eat that morning but she had drunk a large glass of milk before departure which was now exacting revenge on her insides.

She excused herself and told them she would go buy a newspaper.

'Make it two, Mary, I'd like to read a bit of gossip myself,' Mrs. Forster said, handing her three pennies.

When she found herself alone Mary thought she would be relieved, but standing on the boardwalk outside the shops was not more comforting than trying to calm her nausea inside.

'Come now, Mary, stop being silly,' she chided herself as she leant against one of the walls. She rummaged through her small bag for some salts.

She had left them at home.

Well, there was only one thing left to do now. Return home.

It was a real dilemma that she could not remember where they lived. She had forgotten which road they had taken, though, in her defense, it was quite difficult to make a sense of the intricate, narrow paths that looked almost identical.

She saw a young boy across the street waving some newspapers with great purpose. She walked his way with the intention of at least performing the task she had lied about.

But the young boy suddenly turned around and started walking down a cobbled road to his left. Mary called after him, running across the street.

'Wait a minute, young boy!'

The din was making it nearly impossible for him to hear her and he had decided to find better customers on 'la falaise.'

Mary had half a mind to turn back, but the road was much less populated and the sea breeze which was more noticeable here was infinitely more pleasant than anything she had smelt so far.

After nearly twenty minutes of strenuous walking in a pair of painful shoes she had arrived at the docks.

She could see the wide, blue expanse of water stretching in front of her like an endless sky. The ocean currents swished over the waves like a pair of white gloves. They beat over the small heads of people walking by, pulling their hats or ruffling their dresses in a comical manner.

She saw that the road ended where the sands began, but there was a different, smaller path which led to a small forest of maples, not far from the shore.

Mary thought she'd find a place to sit down and perhaps empty the contents of her stomach.

She limped more than walked towards the small patch of green.

The ladies walking by were staring at the pelicans through their binoculars, but their gaze rested on her from time to time.

She was a curious sight. Her feet clanking coarsely on the sand and her hands pressed over her stomach in a pitiful manner. Her bag was pulled over her shoulder in a very manly fashion.

An elderly mother pulled her daughter to her side upon seeing her stumble past her.

'Don't go near her, Margaret darling. Look how yellow her complexion is, poor girl. She looks positively miserable! Oh, dear!'

It did not help that Mary's expression was always graced with her usual scowl.

The mother, being an overly zealous Christian, decided to alert a gentleman nearby about the lady in question. Seeing as Mary was walking purposely towards the sea, the woman worried that the young lady might do something ill-advised, even throw herself in the waters. The woman was prone to believing these sort of scenarios.

'Excuse me, Sir, I beg your pardon for troubling you, but I am in need of your assistance,' she said, stepping in front of a passing young man.

The man seeing the matronly looking woman and the daughter clinging next to her stopped politely and tipped his hat.

'How may I be of service to you ladies?' he asked.

'Do you see that young woman over there, walking towards the sea?' she said pointing at Mary's limping figure.

The man squinted his eyes. 'Yes, what about it, madam?'

'Well, Sir, she is a frightful sight! She is in a terrible state, she looks positively feverish. Her complexion is sallow, she seems to have a broken ankle and she has a very pained expression on her face. Deep sorrow, Sir, is what I read on her face.'

The gentleman seemed more amused than troubled by this account.

'Maybe she is just a jilted lover, madam,' the young man, replied smiling.

'No, Sir, I know jilted love when I see it, she is quite past that. I fear…I fear she has come to drown her sorrows in the sea.'

'You mean you believe she will attempt to …drown herself?'

'It has happened before with a dear friend of mine's cousin, it may happen again! Bad luck seems to be following me everywhere!' she said in a dramatic voice.

'And you wish for me to stop her?'

'Yes, Sir, I beg of you, come to her aid. I am old and my feet do not walk as fast as I wish they would, but you might be in time to prevent her from doing something fatal,' the woman said, holding her daughter closer to her waist.

'Very well, I will go see if she's alright, if you so insist…' the man replied reluctantly.

'I will be here watching you. And I will fetch for an officer if needed!'

The young man took out his binoculars and surveyed the sea shore. He saw the young girl walking towards the shrubbery. He confessed she was a worrying sight, even from afar.

He walked briskly towards her, hoping she would not be some mad vagrant.

Mary had just reached the small forest and was fighting her way through the low branches. She found a small tree stump in the middle of a grey-looking meadow nearby and immediately sat down on it.

She sighed in relief. It was such a good thing to find a place to rest.

She pulled out her shoes and let her swollen feet sink into the wet brown grass. She couldn't see them because she was still in stockings but she knew they must be completely red.

After a couple of minutes of just sitting and massaging her feet and letting them bend and twist free of their confinement, she got up and started walking slowly.

She still had to throw up. And this hidden place was as good as any.

It was at that moment that the young gentleman who had been following her finally found her. He was arrested by the sight in front of him. He was not sure how to proceed.

The young girl in front of him was walking in circles around the meadow, her back bent forward and her mouth twisted in painful grimace.

He also remarked she had no shoes on her feet.

She was muttering something to herself. He got closer so he could listen.

'Come on, get it out already, we haven't got all day!' she was telling herself in a brisk tone.

'They must have noticed you've been gone for a while, you have to get the job done now,' she continued in the same tone.

She was talking to herself, that was not a good sign, the young man surmised. And what exactly did she wish to accomplish in the middle of nowhere?

She stopped in front a tree and placed both hands on its trunk. She started coughing loudly.

Then she began emitting some very strange noises, animal-like, almost as if she was howling. He started worrying that perhaps that old woman had not been afraid in vain.

After Mary felt she had vomited as much as she would that day she wiped her mouth with her handkerchief and spat on the ground in disgust. She was in desperate need of some water to clean her mouth.

Seeing as the sea was the closest she would get to a source of water, she grabbed her shoes and disappeared behind the bushes.

The young man came out of his hiding place and called out.

'Young lady! Young lady where are you?'

He spotted her from afar. She was sprinting towards the sea.

Good Lord, was she really going to do what he thought she would?

He ran after her, feeling as if he were the protagonist in one of those gothic novels where the heroine had lost her mind.

Mary was already bending over a large boulder on the shore to take some water in her palms, when a young man jumped out of nowhere and yelled at her.

'Stop right there!'

Mary paused with her hands filled with sea water mid-air and stared at him surprised.

'Pardon?'

'Miss, give me your hand and step away from the rocks,' he said, extending his hand towards her.

Mary, who was terrified of strangers, knocked his hand over with the pair of shoes she was holding in her hand.

The young man took a step towards her.

'Stay back,' she said hoarsely.

'Please, I won't harm you,' he said, holding his palms up. 'I only wish to help.'

He took another step towards her.

'Think of what you are doing, Miss. You are still very young and you have a promising future ahead of you.'

Mary frowned. This man's speech was quite strange. She wondered whether he was drunk.

'Whoever you are, _Sir_, please stay back, or I will…'

'... Jump?' he finished for her.

Mary's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

'Jump?' she repeated.

'Into the sea,' he explained, pointing at the furious waves below.

'Why would I jump into the sea?' she asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Well, weren't you running towards…' he said, pointing at the bushes behind him then staring back at her.

'I just wanted to take a gulp of water,' she said, folding her arms upset. 'There's no harm in that.'

Sudden realization dawned on him and it was all the more confirmed by the girl's sour expression. He ran a hand over his face in embarrassment. Good God, had he followed a young girl all this way for no reason? He was truly an imbecile.

'Oh, you…you weren't going to jump,' he concluded dryly, straightening himself.

'No, of course not, that would be ludicrous. Who would want to do that? The body would freeze instantly,' she said, scowling.

'I…I made a terrible mistake,' he muttered. 'I am profusely apologetic.'

'I accept your apology,' she said, scrutinizing him carefully.

'I will…bother you no longer,' he said awkwardly.

'That would be for the best,' she said, bending again to take a gulp of water.

He turned away and started walking in the opposite direction, but his conscience would not let him part without first making sure she was alright.

He turned around again.

'I'm sorry, Miss, but I couldn't help noticing…' he began. Mary spat the water she had swollen quickly into the sea.

'I couldn't help noticing,' he said, choosing to ignore her odd mannerisms, 'you were acting...quite strange earlier. You were not feeling well. I believe you were a bit ill.'

Mary's cheeks instantly turned red. How much had this young man seen?

She brushed her mouth self-consciously.

'Could I be of any assistance perhaps, since I have already troubled you so much?'

Mary mulled over his proposition. On the one hand, she was still feeling sickly and she could barely walk in those shoes, on the other hand, he was a complete stranger and probably a lunatic to boot.

'Well, I would appreciate a carriage,' she said, staring down at her feet.

'Excellent, a carriage. Well if you would just walk with me to the main road I would gladly call and pay one for you.'

Mary sighed and got up, holding her shoes in one hand. She settled her bag across her shoulder and started walking slowly towards him.

'Is there a problem with your shoes?' he asked, pointing at them.

'Yes. They are not mine. And they do not fit, so I have no choice but to walk bare-foot,' she explained.

'Well then, maybe I should buy you a pair of – '

Mary stopped him before he finished the sentence.

'I am not your charge and I do not accept charity.'

'It would not be charity, it would be a way to show my remorse,' he mumbled.

'That is _still_ charity.'

The young man glanced at her briefly. She was a stern little creature.

'Alright then, let's just find a carriage. Do you know the address?'

'The address?' she asked weakly.

'Don't worry, I will not…follow you home,' he said, wincing in embarrassment. 'You can tell the driver the address.'

'Well, truth be told, I don't know it very well, the address,' she confessed. 'I am staying with…an acquaintance.'

'Oh. That _is_ problematic. Are they settled in Brighton?'

'For the time being, since the officers are staying here,' she replied.

'Could you give me the name of your acquaintance then?'

Mary narrowed her eyes at him.

'I'm a Colonel, I might have heard of them,' he explained.

'Mr. and Mrs. Forster,' she said quietly.

'Oh, Forster! I know him quite well, he is a capital man,' he replied, his face lighting up. 'And I believe I remember his residence.'

'Actually,' she began, 'I don't wish to go home right now, could you take me to the boulevard?'

The Colonel raised an eyebrow.

'And leave you there alone? In this state?'

'My sister and Mrs. Forster are bound to be in one of the shops,' she explained.

'Well, what if they returned home? It is getting late,' he pointed out. 'It is best if I took you home directly.'

'Alright, if you could give me the address, I will tell the driver myself,' Mary said.

'Nonsense, I will see you to your house. It's the least I can do.'

'But it's really unnecessary,' she insisted. 'You've already done enough. You don't need to bother yourself any further. I am perfectly fine.'

The Colonel could not understand her reluctance, but Mary secretly dreaded having to show up with an unknown man at the door and have both her sister and Mrs. Forster meet him. Not only had she previously disappeared without an explanation, but now she would come home with a stranger, holding her shoes in her hand and looking like she had come out of bed.

'I think it's necessary, I'm afraid,' the Colonel said, leaving no room for argument.

He found the girl rather unpleasant, despite his ministrations to be as polite as possible. It is true he had made a mistake, but he had been right about her not feeling well and she was being far too obstinate for her own good. He wondered why she was so bent on making his task much more difficult than it was. Was she afraid he would pursue her? That he was some perverse creature who liked nothing better than to pry on young women?

He almost smiled. If he were to pursue a stranger it would not be a scrawny, plain-looking girl with a bad mouth and coarse manners.

He was curious how she could be in any way related to the Forster's.

When they reached 'la falaise' the Colonel summoned a carriage and helped Mary get in the backseat.

He sat right across from her, staring at her muddied stockings. He averted his gaze quickly upon discovering that he could see a toe through a hole in her left foot.

He told himself he had to be all politeness.

'I'm sorry we haven't been properly introduced,' he began. 'I am Colonel Fitzwilliam.'

'Mary,' she said, shaking his hand warily.

He was going to ask for her last name, but she promptly took out a longer handkerchief and began cleaning her stockings without looking up.

The Colonel sighed and decided it was not worth asking any further. She was proving to be a bit too much for his taste.

If someone had told Mary this morning she would be sitting bare-foot across a stranger, her mouth bitter from yesterday's victuals and her feet deep in mud, she would have been amused.

As it was, she could only pray silently that no one would make a big gossip out of this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone, I've finally got around to updating this story again, it has taken me a while :) I can only attribute it to divided attention, since I have so many other stories to work on, but Mary's one of my favourites, so I found time. I want to thank all of you for your lovely reviews (am truly happy everyone was pleased with the Colonel's appearance) and your encouragement that motivate me sometimes when I seem to run out of ideas, which happens very often. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter:) **

4: In Surprise

There was talk, however, and much talk to be made.

When the cab drew near the Forsters' residence and the upper windows of the house opened in curiosity and the children across the road scampered nearby to watch the strange man climb down the ladder, Mary Bennet knew there was going to be much talk.

She was inclined not to take his hand as he extended a rough but round and plump palm towards her. One of the servants had already come out and was calling for her.

Only a moment later, Lydia jumped into the frame of the doorway.

'If I may be of assistance,' the Colonel repeated, shaking his hand in impatience.

Mary gripped it much tighter than it was necessary and nearly flew over the steps as her legs hit the ground once more with a bleak thump.

At the sight of her, Lydia gasped.

'Mary, your stockings! Where are your shoes?' she asked alarmed. Mary revealed she was holding them in her hands.

The Colonel looked around in dismay. Mr. Forster was nowhere in sight. He would have wanted to exchange some words. He felt terribly unwelcome and uncomfortable among these strange women.

'Lydia, I see you are back,' Mary muttered, looking at her forehead.

'Well, yes, _I_ am back, but poor Mr. Forster is out looking for you!' she said, walking towards her precipitately.

'Oh, goodness,' Mary whispered, glancing at the Colonel who looked equally disconcerted.

'Where have you disappeared then? We were all _worried_!'

'I lost my way around town. I was a bit ill, you see, and I had left my salts at home...' Mary began flustered.

'I found her by the sea side, taking the air in,' the Colonel intervened politely, 'and I made it my duty to bring the Miss home, since I am a good acquaintance of Colonel Forster.'

Lydia's eyes widened as she surveyed the handsome, tall and proud man in front of her. He had an air about him which admitted no hesitation. She felt humbled and ridiculous for having yelled at Mary like that.

'Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam was kind enough to take me home,' Mary confirmed, wringing her shoes in her hands.

'I beg your pardon, Sir, we were not properly introduced, I thank you kindly for taking care of my sister. She is _quite_ hopeless, I'm afraid,' Lydia said sweetly, curtsying so low that her dress swept the entire courtyard.

The Colonel nodded grimly, watching the hems of her dress flow back and forth in a steady rhythm and allowing himself to remark that this young woman was remarkably attractive and short-tempered, two attributes which did not always collide.

'Well, it was my pleasure, after all, but we must find Colonel Forster immediately, the man shouldn't be out troubling himself any longer,' the Colonel reminded them.

'Well, yes, of course, you are most certainly right,' Lydia began.

'Lydia, where is Mrs. Forster?' Mary asked concerned.

'She had a bit of a fit when she realized you had disappeared and she is in bed now, resting,' Lydia replied crisply, her eyes watching her accusingly.

'Oh, I am very sorry to hear that, please kindly inform her she has nothing to worry about anymore,' the Colonel replied in Mary's place, smiling uneasily.

'Oh dear, I will go speak to her myself and apologize,' Mary said. 'Right after I have a change of clothes.'

Lydia was about to ask her about her miserable attire and the reason for her current deplorable state, but Mary slipped away quietly into the house not giving her the opportunity, turning only once more only to thank the Colonel and wish him a good day.

Lydia looked after her in confusion.

'I am terribly sorry, she is such a curious girl, she gives us so much trouble sometimes,' Lydia began, trying to find a way to invite the Colonel inside.

'Yes, I can see that,' he replied quietly, narrowing his eyes at her.

The girl had run inside without so much as a polite curtsy or a serious acknowledgement on her part and she had not even paused to bid him a proper goodbye. She had just left him there, indifferent to the fact that she had been terribly impolite. He was not the one for unnecessary protocols, but this young woman had acted very unfeelingly towards him considering he had helped her so much. It is true she had been reluctant to his help from the start, but he had hoped she would be a little bit more grateful despite everything.

He felt more and more uncomfortable and stupid standing in front of her younger sister, chatting idly, though she was by no means an unpleasant company. His mind reeled back to his initial goal, that of finding Forster.

'Well, I'm afraid I should be going. I would like to have a word with the Colonel and save him his troubles for one day,' the Colonel spoke at length.

'Oh, but please Sir, do visit us again and stay for tea, we would like to show you our gratitude properly,' Lydia intoned. Her request was sweet and harmless and she also had the most charming dimples when she smiled.

'I shall, probably, now that I know the Colonel is in town,' Colonel Fitzwilliam assured her.

He kissed her hand. 'Please give Mrs. Forster my compliments.'

With that he took one last glance at the house and at the imaginary figure of Mary Bennet, climbing up the stairs, after which he climbed into the cab and disappeared from view.

In all the commotion and agitation, he had forgotten to inquire their last name.

* * *

The discussions after supper lasted well into the night, as did the rumours and tales which swept the neighbouring houses.

'How could you leave like that, Mary and give us all such a fright? Can you imagine what went through my head when I realized you had gone?' Mrs. Forster asked her in a shrill voice.

'How could you have been so selfish?' she asked again. 'I was expecting much more from you as the elder sister, but I see Lydia has tenfold more judgement than you.'

'You were _very_ lucky that kind gentleman found you and brought you home,' Lydia intervened, getting up from the sofa and walking nervously towards the mantelpiece. She would have never admitted it in front of anyone, but she was secretly glad Mary had been the first to make a mistake and not her. It gave her a sense of superiority and wisdom. She was equally glad this had brought Colonel Fitzwilliam to her attention. She was waiting for the right moment to bring him up, after reprimanding her sister of course.

Mr. Forster was sitting demurely at one of the desks, pretending to write down some sums, but he was pondering on the events of that day as well.

'Yes, indeed you were very lucky Colonel Fitzwilliam found you!' Mrs. Forster exclaimed. 'What a heavenly coincidence! Otherwise I do not know _who_ would have found you! I hope you realize this sort of conduct will not be tolerated under our roofs or in any decent society. I need not remind you that the entire neighbourhood is probably gossiping. A young woman brought home in such a dismal state by an unknown man, you wait and hear the stories they will make of that, _Miss_ Bennet, you just wait.'

Towards the end of this fastidious speech, her voice dwindled and her matronly, sober words gave way to a more girlish and youthful tone she always tried to subdue in front of others. She was, after all, not much older than Mary.

'Yes, my wife speaks truthfully. There will be much talk about you, I'm afraid,' Mr. Forster suddenly spoke.

Mary bowed her head down. The prospect only frightened her because there would be nothing worthwhile talked about her.

'I will try to mend my mistake,' Mary said. Mrs. Forster felt slightly spurned that once again she could hear no apology in Mary's voice.

This was the second time the girl was openly defying her good intentions.

Of course Mary _had_ apologized previously but the words had been so cold, after all, spoken in such a formal and distant manner that she was quite sure there was something pungent and incorrigible in her. Still, she was inclined not to think too ill of her because she imagined any girl of her age was eager to get married and become independent, therefore, she attributed her 'mild hysterics' to her desire to tie herself to a young man.

Mary, on the other hand, felt very embarrassed. What she loathed more than anything was to be at the centre of such undeserved castigations. She only wished she could fade into the paper wall once more, as she did back home, and enjoy the richness of her solitude without the intrusion of outside voices.

'I promise not to disobey any of you again,' she added soberly. 'It was an inconsiderate thing on my part.'

Lydia watched her in suspicion as she clasped her hands peacefully in her lap and resigned herself to their judgement.

She knew very well that Mary was only saying this to appease them. She had no real sense of remorse.

'Well, I believe for your Sake and _ours_ you should not attend the Ball tomorrow night. It would be too early after such an indiscretion and it would be much more advisable for you to stay home.'

Mary warmly agreed.

'That would be for the best. I am much inclined to stay here,' she replied, nodding her head in contentment.

'You almost sound happy about not attending,' Mrs. Forster remarked crossly.

'No, I would never sound _happy. _That would be impolite,' Mary contradicted her.

Mrs. Forster felt once again that Mary was deliberately challenging her. That is why her husband's intervention came as a relief, more than an argument.

'Now, now, I shall have none of that. The Bennet girls are staying with us for the season and neither of them is going to miss any chance of society. Her parents have bestowed her on me and explicitly asked me to secure her welfare and I shall do nothing short of that. Mary shall go, of course, and she shall _like_ it,' he said, leaving no room for argument.

* * *

As the two sisters prepared for bed that evening, Lydia couldn't help but breach the subject once more just so she could have another word in the saying. This time, being in the safety of their room, she could afford to express herself more naturally than in the presence of adults.

'And to think you were concerned about me spending too much time with the officers. Well, it seems you went and broke your own precious rules, so your word no longer holds power over me, Mary.'

Mary, who was tying her hair back in a bun, turned around and let her hair fall down in small rivulets around her face.

She walked towards Lydia's bed, where the young girl, sat almost undressed, watching her gleefully.

She took hold of the blankets and pulled them gently over her body, covering her completely.

Then she bowed and stuffed the loose strands back into her sister's night cap.

'I am still your older sister, like it or not. That will never change. You are bound to my words,' Mary said simply, tapping her forehead lightly.

Lydia opened her mouth to protest the weakness of such an argument, but Mary had already extinguished the candles.

* * *

The Colonel had been surprised to find out that the two girls were none other than Elizabeth Bennet's sisters. Forster had told him, in between their usual subjects of discussion, that the two were the younger ones of the family and they had come to Brighton to meet the militia and enjoy the sea air. He also mentioned that only Lydia had been actually invited by Mrs. Forster, to clumsily excuse Mary's unfavourable situation.

'What a small world, indeed, Forster! Why, I have heard of another Bennet sister myself.'

'How so, Richard?'

'My cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, you might have met him, recounted to me having met the elder Miss Bennets at the assembly in Meryton.'

'Oh, of course, Mr. Darcy! The man himself! I didn't get the chance to speak to him personally, but I did see a great deal of him. It was too bad my wife and I left Meryton very early that month.'

'Indeed. He and his good friend Charles Bingley spent nearly a month at Netherfield and apparently had ample time to become acquainted with the sisters, especially the two eldest. I must say my cousin spoke in conveniently warm terms about Miss _Elizabeth_ Bennet.'

'Oh, yes of course, we have had the pleasure of their acquaintance many times and Miss Elizabeth seemed like the most able-minded of them all, despite her age, not to mention she is quite a beauty in her county, but she is not excessively proud about it,' Mr. Forster agreed. 'A very gracious young woman.'

'Well, I cannot say for certain whether my cousin admires her or not, because he does not confide in me as I wish he would, but she _has_ caught his attention. Of course he would never admit it. He is as stubborn as a mule,' the Colonel joked.

'I have heard a great deal about Mr. Darcy. He is a _fine_ gentleman.'

'Fine he may be, but I would not say he is very agreeable in all societies,' the Colonel commented.

'I suppose then he will not join you in Brighton.'

'Oh, God no, not under pain of death!' the Colonel laughed.

'Well, at least we will be seeing you at the Ball, Richard,' Colonel Forster added.

'Yes, yes, do I have anything else better to do? But what a small world indeed!'

* * *

The Colonel was looking forward to speaking with the Bennets about their sisters and their family the following evening, but he did not have so much luck.

Lydia, the youngest, he had barely been able to remark among the many couples dancing. She was the most agile of the girls her age and she danced without a single pause, commanding the attention of every new officer she happened to be introduced to.

And there were plenty to choose from.

He supposed Mary would be dancing with the officers as well (though perhaps not equally solicited due to the inferiority in looks) because he imagined the Bennet sisters' sole goal in coming here was either securing a husband or at least flirting with as many officers as possible before acquiring those husbands.

Mary had come off as quite stubborn and quiet in the short amount of time he had been in her presence, but he thought that she would be in her element at a Ball and certainly much less inclined to brooding and throwing tantrums, especially since Darcy had told him the Bennets were a bunch of giggling, happy girls, dancing and enjoying themselves in the wildest fashions.

He was taken by surprise then to notice that not only was she not among the throng of dancers, but she was nowhere to be seen. He had not sought after her intently, but it had not been difficult to notice her absence. Among so many red coats, a young woman was an easy trace.

He did find Mrs. Forster who was only too happy to provide as much information about the two Bennet sisters as she could in one evening.

'Lydia is a _darling_. She truly is the sweetest girl I have ever met. She means to please everyone and she usually does, no one can stand her charm. She is so gentle, I told her from the start she was not meant for the country side, she is much too delicate and sensitive. But she is known as the handsomest of the sisters, right after the eldest, Jane. Her mother is very proud of her. Her father is a bit concerned she might be too young for so many outings, but she shows a great sense of maturity for her age, so I would not worry on that account,' she spoke warmly as she gazed at Lydia's disappearing figure.

'The room seems all too small for a vivacious girl like her, doesn't it?' she remarked, raising her eyebrow at him.

'She is very spirited indeed,' the Colonel agreed, staring at the bright chandeliers, whose lights were reflected in her cheeks.

'And very pretty,' he added. 'I might have to ask her for the honour myself.'

'Oh, she would only be too glad. I believe she was quite taken with you the first time she saw you,' Mrs. Forster confided in him. 'She told me so herself.'

Colonel Fitzwilliam straightened his back with the pride of a feline.

'I do not see the elder sister anywhere, however,' he began, trying to avert the conversation towards Mary.

'Oh, _Mary_. Well, yes, I would not expect you to. She is not exactly what I would call sociable. Even at Meryton she used to...sit by herself mostly,' she commented awkwardly. 'She is intelligent, I suppose and well-read, but she keeps to herself. Her mother calls her very accomplished, but an accomplished lady should be able to enjoy these sorts of social gatherings. Didn't Socrates call us _social_ animals, after all?'

'That was Aristotle actually,' the Colonel began, but changed his mind quickly, 'then I do not suppose she would enjoy dancing or anything similar.'

'Oh, well, I do not know. I have not seen her dance at Meryton. And I don't suppose one shall see her here either.'

'She did not come with you tonight then?'

'Oh, she did, actually. She has retired to one of the rooms, I believe. Lord knows what the girl is doing there,' Mrs. Forster commented, laughing uneasily.

The Colonel's curiosity was slightly piqued.

Notwithstanding, he did not inquire after her any further. There were many guests there eagerly waiting to speak with him and he wanted to demand at least two dances from Lydia Bennet.

It was only much later in the evening, when he had played enough cards, taken enough turns about the rooms with all the willing ladies and filled himself with enough tobacco smoke to last him for a long time that he broke from his ample company a little while, despite the cries of protest, and went in search of a quieter place.

Unconsciously, he was also looking for Mary Bennet. He had remained curious about her self-inflicted isolation. He had not seen her at all throughout the entire Ball and he had grown suspicious. There was something unquestionably odd about a young girl hiding by herself in a room away from a Ball.

He turned towards the second floor, where it was bound to be _quieter_.

He found her in one of the drawing rooms. No fire had been drawn so it was noticeably colder in here. The light was almost a shadow, half of the candles were extinguished. She was sitting by one of the dark windows which had probably been filled with the crimson sunset lights just hours before. She was holding a book in her lap, but her chin hung down in chest.

She was fast asleep.

There was a certain amount of poetry, he realized, in finding a girl asleep at a Ball. How could she just stand there, reading herself to sleep, while everyone else was downstairs, dancing and enjoying themselves?

She must have heard the music and the laughter, the clinket of glasses, the broken sentences of people talking. She must have even tapped her foot lightly to the rhythm of the song.

Why had she not joined them?

Even if she did not like Balls, she could have sat on the side and watched the couples dancing. The dresses and the colours were certainly magnificent, if there was nothing else to admire. She could have conversed with some other women and men of her age.

She could have even read with the mothers in one of the card rooms. She could have at least eaten some wonderful cake and drunk some splendid wine.

Why would she deprive herself of the small pleasures of life to sit in a cold, dark room and read? She would only turn reading into a dreadful ordeal. Was she some new brand of snob?

He almost shuddered. Such people were small. They were miserable and they never enjoyed life.

He was about to leave the room, but he thought he should at least wake her up. The Forsters would soon have to leave and they would probably waste a good half hour looking for her.

He drew closer to her corner and coughed loudly.

She did not stir. She was a heavy sleeper perhaps. Her smooth face looked arrested in deep thought.

He stepped closer until he was in front of her chair. He crouched down slightly and shut her book.

Still she remained asleep. He read the title over the shadow of her fingers.

_The Description of A New World Called the Blazing-World_, written by the Duchess of Newcastle.

He wrinkled his nose. Not exactly his favourite read, but a curious choice nevertheless.

It was then that she finally opened her eyes.

It was strange because it happened all at once, as if someone had startled her from a trance. She did not even blink or move. She lifted her eyelids, as slowly and precisely as an owl, revealing an empty stare.

The Colonel almost jumped out of his skin. He hastily withdrew from her proximity.

He would have uttered an apology or something along those lines, had she not almost immediately closed her eyelids again.

He stared at her dumbfounded. It had happened so quickly.

Her face resumed the expression of deep and thoughtful slumber once more.

He waited for a long time, but she did not open her eyes again.

He felt quite shocked, but he couldn't explain it to himself. He thought he had imagined it all. It had only been a vision.

He did not dwell there any longer.

He left the room with the knowledge that the Forsters would take at least half an hour to find her.

* * *

**Did anyone else pick on the foreshadowing names and situations in this chapter? Anyways, please tell me what you think :) **


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